


Meth and Mountain Dew

by calrissian18



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Comeplay, Explicit Language, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Pop Culture References Out the Yang, Somnophilia, Wow. Porn.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 00:28:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calrissian18/pseuds/calrissian18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott’s Wolfen – which was a lot like a Kraken but, you know, with wolves – had become a needy douche since the bump in power status.  Allison was busy subduing werewolves by fucking her way through all the ones the town had on offer – or whatever her plan was there – and Scott wasn’t exactly at the point where he could knot the new girl. </p><p>Didn’t stop his Wolfen from needing to make <i>someone</i> submit.</p><p>And that was the story of how Stiles lost his virginity.  He was beginning to suspect it might not make Hallmark movie material.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meth and Mountain Dew

**Author's Note:**

> I regret every single solitary bit of this. My friends are kind of aholes. I leave the room for five minutes and _this_ is the prompt they come up with. Oh my life.
> 
> Happy New Year btdubs!

A sharp sting of pain pinched the skin of Stiles’ hips, tilting them up.  He felt a shiver snake up his spine, cold air raising goosebumps over the wide expanse of his back.  It took him a long moment to realize he was wearing far fewer clothes than he had been when he’d fallen asleep.  He hissed as the insistent prick of claws dug slightly deeper into his pelvis, the blunt pressure of a cock pressing against his hole.  It made him jump a little, as though he’d caught a chill, and he snorted into his pillow, half-mumbling, “Penises are falling from the sky.”

One of the hands left his hip and smoothed over the back of his neck and then his shoulder in a soothing fashion.  It was large and warm and the fingertips were carefully angled up and away.  “‘m I hurting you?” asked the slurred-stupid voice of a human with fangs.  But fangs like the fake plastic vampire fangs people wore on Halloween, where you sounded slightly brain damaged and sucked your teeth every few seconds.

Stiles took stock as Scott eased inside him.  He was still fairly loose from earlier – What?  He was a healthy, growing boy with a sex drive roughly the size of Greenland and an intimate knowledge of exactly how useful his own fingers were – and Scott had been kind enough to slick himself up before shoving in.  Stiles grunted, pressing his hips back into Scott’s and making him moan as Stiles took every last bit of him.  He wriggled slightly on Scott’s cock, his chest still pressed flat into the mattress, ass in the air, and decided, “No more than Joss Whedon does on the regular, man.”  Scott pulled back, one clawed hand on his shoulder and thrust back in.  Stiles let out a slightly winded ‘oof.’  “We’re a bit too practiced at this for it to even merit opening my eyes all the way,” he admitted, only one eye cracked, still wholly drowsy.

“I stayed away for a week,” Scott argued petulantly.  Which was true.  But it had always been thought of as ‘a week until…’  At least in Stiles’ mind.  He was counting down to the next time, every time, simply because pattern said it was coming – and fast.  Scott’s Wolfen – which was a lot like a Kraken but, you know, with wolves – had become a needy douche since the bump in power status.  Allison was busy subduing werewolves by fucking her way through all the ones the town had on offer – or whatever her plan was there – and Scott wasn’t exactly at the point where he could knot the new girl. 

Didn’t stop his Wolfen from needing to make _someone_ submit.

And that was the story of how Stiles lost his virginity.  He was beginning to suspect it might not make Hallmark movie material.

Scott rolled his hips down, nearly making Stiles lose the plant of his knees on the mattress.  He lifted himself up onto his elbows, giving himself better leverage to start shoving back onto Scott’s dick.  “Dude,” he panted, “you’re an addict.  I’m just gonna have a bottle of Mountain Dew waiting for you on the nightstand the next time you climb in through my window like the world’s worst Derek Hale impersonator.”

Scott made his curious puppy noise even as his hand tightened on Stiles’ shoulder so he could hold himself flush against Stiles’ ass and _grind_.

The claws were still there and Stiles could feel them breaking skin.  He’d stopped caring about the sexy times fouls about a time or ten back.  He responded to what he thought Scott was questioning.  “You smile too much,” he said in explanation.  “You can’t be Derek if you’re showing teeth in a way that isn’t the preface to a threat.”

“Mountain.  Dew?” Scott forced out between driving thrusts, so vigorous that it made Stiles lose his breath for half a second.

Stiles’ brain scrambled a bit in his head and he tried to pull his thoughts back in and make sense of them.  It took a moment for the tumblers to click into place.  He snorted when they did.  “Meth and Mountain Dew,” he said as though it was obvious.  Scott pushed down on the valley between his shoulders, flattening his chest into the mattress again and fucking into him hard.  “Meth mouth?” Stiles tried, voice slightly muffled.

Scott grunted out a sound of negation, tightening the hand on Stiles’ hip and dragging Stiles back onto his cock.

“How do you not know these things?” Stiles asked him, exasperated.  “It’s like you don’t even have the National Geographic channel.”  He lifted up, too hot and sweaty to be pressed into his comforter, and shook his head.  “Dude, you ruin my cleverness when you make me explain it.”

Scott’s breaths were coming in huffy little pants but he still managed to demand judgmentally, “I should know what meth addicts prefer to drink?”

Stiles rolled his eyes.  “ _Obviously_.”

Scott’s hand left his shoulder and fitted over the back of his neck, pushing him down again and, fuck, but his Wolfen was annoying when it decided it needed to try to smoosh Stiles into his mattress.  Stiles tried to subtly shake him off but Scott’s grip only tightened, his hips slamming into Stiles’ ass.  Scott puffed out a few labored breaths and then bit out, “I am sorry about, you know, you _having_ so much practice at this.”

Stiles let out a sharp breath through his nose.  He was starting to get hard as Scott’s idiot Wolfen finally chanced on his prostate.  Creatures of the night?  Not so big on making it good for the dude they were ramming into, just FYI.  “I haven’t heard me complain once,” Stiles told him, annoyed.  He rested his forehead on the thumbs of his clasped hands.  “The way you get about this, it’s like I’ve written you a letter that stretches to fucking Australia detailing my issues with it.  I would have to write my one bullet point at like ten tragillion font if I was gonna get it there,” Scott made a curious sound and Stiles said harshly, “You keep apologizing mid-fucking.”  Even if he wasn’t put off by Scott’s inability to ‘find the bullseye’ with any regularity, the constant apologies weren’t exactly going to get him tripping over himself to come.

“Sorry,” Scott said.

Stiles chuckled, it coming out slightly broken as Scott gave a forceful jab of his hips.  “That was purposeful, I know it,” he snarked.  He blinked open both eyes, still feeling half-asleep even as his dick considered plumping up all the way.  He glanced around and there was nothing lurking in the shadows or hiding in the cracks in the walls.  Which was a good indication that he was awake and his mind belonged solely to him, at least for that moment.  “What time is it?” he asked, staring into the dark corners of his room.

Scott’s hips were starting to stutter a little more unevenly and he pulled back, holding himself so just the tip of his cock was still being clung to by Stiles’ hole.  He was clearly trying to bring himself back under control, attempting to calm his short gasps for air and the tenseness of his clawed hands on Stiles’ skin.  Apparently Wolfen wasn’t done fucking Stiles quite yet.  Scott’s voice flickered between gruff and deep and something more regular, more his own.  “Either really early or really late, depending on how you look at it.”

Stiles snorted, trying to press back into Scott, to make him fucking _get there_ already.  Instead, both of Scott’s hands shifted to his hips and held Stiles forcefully still.  “When was the last time you saw me _wake up_ when it was pitch black out?” Stiles asked, mouth twisting petulantly as he was thwarted in his movements.  “Around never hundred hours?” he asked rhetorically, clarifying, “It’s _late_.”

“A little after four,” was the answer either way.

“Shit,” Stiles said, trying to wriggle his hips back, but it only made Scott’s claws dig in more deeply as he remained unmoving, until he was sure he could thrust back in and not lose it.  Stiles huffed.  “That Wolfen of yours just does not respect proper business hours.”

“It’s kind of a dick,” Scott agreed, finally caving and giving a shallow thrust that hit Stiles’ prostate dead on.

Stiles gave a loud moan, reaching a hand back to stroke himself as he sniggered – gave his cock a lazy pump – and said, “Leave the puns to those with more _capable_ hands, Scotty.”

Scott’s front pressed up against his back, leaning over him and bringing clawless fingers up to tweak one of his nipples.  “You want me to get you off?” he asked with hot puffs of breath against Stiles’ ear.

Stiles considered it but his eyes were half-lidded and he felt like sleep might still be a genuine possibility.  And, these days, there was only one thing he wanted more than an orgasm.  “Pass,” he said, yawning, even as Scott’s hips started rocking into him with more force.  “I think I’m close to passing out again, and considering how rare that is—”

Scott seemed to understand instantly, his mouth opening on Stiles’ earlobe and sucking slightly before pulling back.

Stiles rubbed his nose against his pillow and murmured, “You nearly there?”

Scott’s hips were snapping forward with greater regularity and it looked like Wolfen was done building himself up, bringing himself to the edge, and then backing off as Stiles’ ass started to get sore from the pace of his thrusts.  “Fuck yeah, close,” Scott breathed out, voice wrecked.

Thank fucking Thor.  As exhausted as Stiles was, he doubted he’d be able to sleep through an Alpha werewolf in his final throes.  He started letting out wounded catches of breath at every plunge of Scott’s hips and eventually he managed to gasp out, “How long do you think it’s gonna last?”

“It’s been a while,” Scott puffed, “so… longer,” he finished ambiguously.  Well, that was just fucking great.  Scott’s rhythm faltered and he let out a long groan, folding himself over Stiles’ back and saying in a voice wracked with pleasure, “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Happy to oblige,” Stiles said tiredly at the same moment that Scott yanked his hips back, pelvis pressed flush to his ass and grinded himself into him, the base of his cock starting to swell and stretch Stiles further.  Stiles whimpered as the nerves of his hole were rubbed raw and stimulated almost against his will while Scott came hard inside him, moaning almost non-stop as he emptied himself in Stiles.

Stiles’ dick throbbed between his thighs, the pressure on his prostate intense, but he wanted sleep.  He could cry he wanted it so badly.  He shifted, trying to ease the sharp burst of pleasure into something more manageable – maybe beat it back into a dull thrum.

Scott moved with him as Stiles dropped down onto his stomach, still adjusting to the feel of the knot inside him.  That was one thing that just refused to be gotten used to.

“Okay?” Scott asked sleepily.

Stiles yawned again and thankfully his body was starting to calibrate itself to function while not only full of cock and come but also tingling with arousal.  “‘ll live.  Don’t fall asleep on top of me again, dude,” he said at the same time that Scott was draping himself over Stiles’ back.  Stiles snorted to himself.  Yeah, he should’ve seen that one coming.

He scrabbled, snatched, clawed at consciousness simply because he hated letting anything slip away these days but, even impaled and throbbing, he couldn’t hold on to it.  His eyes slid closed and he dropped into a dreamless sleep.

The first thing Stiles noticed as he eased back into awareness was a stark and cold emptiness.  He could feel Scott’s spunk inside him still, which was just, yeah, the opposite of sexy.  Sexy to the negative power.  Not that Stiles’ dick seemed to know that, the opportunist.  The thought that Scott had gone hadn’t even fully formed before Stiles felt a mouth engulf his cock.  His breath caught in his chest.  “Jesus fuck,” he burst out, fisting a hand in Scott’s hair, “that is _nice_ , dude.”

Scott answered by unceremoniously shoving two fingers inside Stiles' ass and pushing his come back up it while he bobbed up and down on Stiles’ cock.  Scott didn’t have any tricks.  He wasn’t a cocksucker at heart.  Now that Wolfen was satisfied though, he _was_ a generous fuck and so he was willing to fake it.  He slobbered, drooled over Stiles’ dick and sucked inconsistently and stopped and stalled in an effort to keep his teeth out of the fray, but it was the thought that counted.

Besides, the worst blowjob was pretty much better than no blowjob.

At least he knew what he was doing with his fingers.  He worked them inside, pressing against Stiles’ prostate, thrusting with every dip of his head.  He pulled off after another minute or so and sat up on his shins, shoving up under Stiles’ thighs so they were resting over his own while he thrust his fingers in and out with one hand and pumped Stiles’ dick with the other.  His own cock was still softening and shiny.

He removed his fingers and pressed his dick back in while he still could, using it to force his come in deeper while he worked Stiles’ cock.  This, Scott was better at, probably because he had so much practice with the motion.  It didn’t take long before the twist of Scott’s wrist and the grip of his hand was bringing Stiles off.  He came all over his chest and abdomen and the come hadn’t even had a chance to cool before Scott was dragging his hand through it and shoving as much of it as he could up Stiles’ ass with his own spunk.

Which was… odd.

Even for him. 

Eventually he noticed that Stiles was staring at him and he shrugged self-consciously.  He didn’t quite meet Stiles’ eye, instead focusing on some spot near the middle of his forehead, and cleared his throat.  “I don’t want to get you pregnant, just to be clear.  The Wolfen, though.”  He coughed.  “He super wants to put babies in you.  Just wants you totally full of… jizz.”  Stiles blinked at him and Scott licked his lower lip, face red, like he just realized he’d used the word ‘jizz’ in a semi-serious conversation.  “So, yeah, sorry about that.”  Stiles wasn't exactly sure what he was apologizing for, the ‘jizz’ comment or that he’d added another weird werewolf kink to his already impressive repertoire.  He should probably be sorry for both though.

Stiles gawked at him for another few seconds before deciding to just let it go.  He could worry about getting wolf preggers or he could worry about the ever-widening cracks in his mind or he could worry about how he was going to sit down tomorrow.  The last won out.  “It’s cool,” he said with a shrug.  “Wolfen’s going to fail, you’re going to be weird, and I’m going to keep getting well-fucked out of the whole dealie.  Sounds like a whole lot of win for the Stiles.  Hooray,” he added with a weak fist pump and a cringing grin.

Scott collapsed onto his back next to Stiles and let out a relieved breath.  “It’s about damn time you got a win.”

Stiles grinned, agreeing heartily, “A-fucking-men, buddy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [here](http://wellhalesbells.tumblr.com/) sometimes, being AMAZING!


End file.
